C Minor
by PlanetOfTheWeepingWillow
Summary: Gilbert, a prodigy in music, decides that he really does not want to preform that evening and drags respectable Roderich down with him. One-shot, PruAus, PrussiaxAustria


_I do not own Hetalia. _

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><p>The never ending song played on. The notes overlapped, rising, rising, and then falling far too quickly for the ear to catch it. Again the cycle repeated. A sweet tune came of it, but the men surrounding the harpsichord and, on the opposite side of the room, the piano-forte, were marveling at something different. They listened, remarking when the note fell. When the loop started again. Or ending again. It was difficult to tell.<p>

"Dreadfully boring, isn't it?" A voice hissed.

Roderich jumped slightly. The human sound had tampered with his music listening. He turned, giving the strange man a narrow glance.

"This is beyond art, this is something greater." He said back, quietly.

A few men around them stirred, giving them an odd look.

The other man, Gilbert, grinned. His pale lips pulled tight, his reddish eyes wide with mischief. Roderich tried not to stare for long. He turned away from him, crossing his arms. The tight sleeves of his purple suit gripped on to him. Once Gilbert had mentioned it, the crowd seemed much less interesting. Nonetheless, Roderich attempted to focus again. This was a true genius at work here.

Gilbert sighed again, closer to Roderich's ear. "Really, how can you enjoy this? This is nearly as boring as memorizing all the declensions in Latin. What a dusty language. All those a, æ, æ, am, ā, æ, arum, is, as, is and so on so forth, why, give me a break teacher. And then we shall memorize a whole new mountain of vocabulary, and then put it into vocative. Ah those verbs! All tedious, monotonous business. Truly no one could have thought it was a good idea to pound it into the minds of weak, helpless children. And this. This, why this is no better. There's no flare, no forte, no fortissimo, no piano, piano, sing pianoforte, sing!"

Roderich scoffed. "You are raving like a madman."

"My point is this is painfully dull and I wondered if a handsome man like you would accompany me to the balcony for a cool breeze. Or are your august hands too good to play here?"

Roderich crimsoned. He crossed his arms further, turning his pointed face away. He was born in Vienna. He was beyond sordid affairs of young, albino men. No matter how intriguing the offer at hand seemed to be.

"I would advise that you go and woo the ladies in the next room. They can get just as bored as these. Save for the opera singers." Roderich responded wistfully.

The harpsichords level sounds ceased as new musicians took their seats. Those who had played a moment before joined the crowd again. A chatter rose. This man explained his ingenuity while another mocked it, with flamboyant language to hide the insult. Or to make it worse.

Gilbert prodded Roderich's arm. "Come, while they sit around discussing like feisty hens."

There was a note of urgency in Gilbert's voice. Something compelled him to leave. Something that had absolutely nothing to do with how dull the music was. Roderich savored a scrutinizing contortion of his face, examining Gilbert. Something odd struck him. The man wore a perfectly fine blue suit with red trimmings and cufflinks. His coattails hunt to his stockinged feet. He was well dressed. He was a little too well dressed.

Roderich's eyes widened. "You're _the _Be—"

"Ah so you agree! Let's go. The balcony is truly a wondrous place." He took Roderich's elbow before any argument could be made. He led him to the balcony, through gilded tables and imported rugs. Men parted like a lazy sea. The guards at the door didn't spare them a glance.

Gilbert led him to two large French doors, covered with soft pink curtains. Roderich followed, still rigid in shock.

The balcony was a semi-circle, a parabola in shape. A fine wind picked up, ruffling Gilbert's collar. He didn't wear a wig and he kept his hair short. Roderich had chosen to grow his hair out in gentle brown curls, and then tie it with a light red ribbon. He looked considerably more dignified than the supposed prodigy.

Gilbert walked to the edge of the balcony. He placed his palms on the edge and leaned over. He stared at the bright green gardens below. Flowers dotted the fields and hedges, trimmed to unnatural perfection, boxed it in. Outside the city bustled, seemingly stark gray against the colors of the palace.

So it was between the rich and the poor.

"You mustn't run from your responsibilities, Herr Beilschmidt. It is very unbecoming of you." Roderich said calmly. "You should play out there. They're waiting for you. You are the guest of honor. Even if no one knows how you look."

Gilbert held up his palm. The skin was dry and cracked. He stared in the distance. Then he began to hum. It was a light, quick tune. He flicked his other hand in tune. He did this for nearly a full minute. Roderich stared in bewilderment. In his mind, a mind trained to be good at music rather than having been born with the natural talent, he heard the song that rung through Gilbert's head.

Then, his hand fell. A puzzle look washed over Gilbert's face. He scowled. "Goodness, I thought I had it."

"It was lovely so far."

Gilbert huffed. "You've seen nothing yet. Why, if I had a viola. A much darker, smoother sound could come from that if I played it there. Yes, imagine, listen." Gilbert closed his eyes.

Roderich waited.

Gilbert snapped them open again, the translucent eyelashes flickering in late sunlight.

"I will write it down when I get home."

"Won't you forget?"

Gilbert stared at Roderich. "How can anyone forget a beautiful tune once they've heard it?"

"But you didn't hear it."

"I heard it quite clearly! Within the confines of my own mind, of course. I prohibit you from entering, for that matter. You couldn't tolerate such awe that swarms in my mind. You would faint at the sight of such raw, unadulterated genius! And, I can't risk a talented man stealing my music. Snatching it awake like a loaf of bread littering the side of a street."

Roderich wasn't sure if he was supposed to be insulted or flattered by Gilbert's words. He chose to keep neutral and wait for the point, should it rise from Gilbert's babble.

A man walked across the balcony, looking around. He peered outside, saw only Roderich, and scurried along. He was looking for Gilbert. That raw talent was desired greatly, wasn't it? Roderich went to the doors.

"Ah! No, please don't!" Gilbert cried out.

Roderich paused, peering through the glare. Sighing, he turned back to Gilbert.

"And if I forced you to confront your woes, you arrogant child, what will you do then?" Roderich said back, adding as much power and contempt into his voice as he could muster.

Gilbert grinned. "I'll kiss your wife!"

"An empty threat. I have no wife."

"I'll kiss you."

"That would be quite preposterous." Roderich said leisurely, trailing to the door again. "And ridiculous as well. Besides, your lips are like a desert. Kissing them would leave me parched."

"Don't you open the door." Gilbert said darkly.

"Or else you'll kiss me?"

"In front of everyone! And you know what that means."

Roderich froze.

Gilbert's grin expanded. "Your reputation will be shattered."

Roderich shook his head, regaining his dignity slowly.

"Firstly, everyone can tell you are a foolish young man. They will assume it is in jest. Secondly, why are you making such juvenile threats?" Roderich hesitated. "And I have no reputation for you to shatter. I write simple tunes and I sell them. I plan on making no place for myself. I am simply doing my civic duty in entertainment. I have better places to be. And why don't you use your talent? What strikes such fear into you?"

Dodging the question, Gilbert stepped towards Roderich. The trees behind him rustled. A tawny bird fluttered from its nest, into the clear blue sky.

"You have a problem, Herr Edelstein. You are a talented man. I have heard you play. You do so far better than the seedy men you work with. And yet you drop to such low levels. Why? What frightens _you_?"

Roderich stared at the marble ground. "I am simply staying afloat in the waters of society. I do not need popularity."

"You deserve it."

"So do you!" Roderich countered, his face flushing again. "And you run as well."

"Then let us run away together!"

It registered in his mind that Gilbert knew his full name. And that he had heard him. How hadn't he noticed the bright white young man before? Had he worn a powdered wig? No, none of that mattered now.

"You are a terrified child."

"I am in my twenties, thank you very much." Gilbert interposed.

Roderich pressed his lips into a fine line. His dark eyes glittered soberly. "But you have been so heavily surrounded by people trying to ring the talent out of you. You remain under their protection. You never learned how to interact with the rest of the world. You are sheltered. And, furthermore, you are wild."

"Wild because I want to kiss you?"

"Why?"

"You're a handsome man."

"You are an impulsive man."

"Spare me from your verbose insults." Gilbert rolled his eyes. The darkness that had shadowed over his face now passed. The man passed by the door again, this time sparring the glass a quizzical look. Aha! He seemed to think.

Roderich went to open the door.

"Don't!" Gilbert scowled.

"I will."

Roderich pushed the door open.

The portly man stumbled through, catching sight of Gilbert who was making a run for it. "Ah! Herr Beilschmidt! No—No don't jump come back here!" He wheezed and trundled along towards the balcony. Gilbert had swung one leg over and was preparing to jump. Roderich went to it and grabbed a hold of Gilbert's arm. One leg dangled. It was a short fall and into a bush next to a group of surprised young women.

"I promised I would!" Gilbert teased, his hands waving to grab Roderich.

Roderich stumbled back, pulling Gilbert back to the marble floors.

"You threatened, not promised." Roderich said.

"And the difference is?"

Roderich slapped Gilbert's back and foisted him forwards. "Go on." He said. Gilbert looked like a whipped beast.

"If you do this I'll let you kiss me." Roderich said.

The young women, who had begun to listen, seemed to giggle shrilly.

"Is that a promise or a threat?" Gilbert said sardonically.

The man who had come to fetch him looked miserable.

Roderich smiled.

"_The difference is?_"


End file.
